Bear Claw Conspiracy. Jessica Andersen
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him as Jim thudded down the steps and Bert relayed the bad news. Jim blanched and surged forward, but Bert grabbed him by the arm and held him in check.
Matt focused on Cochran. His mind raced through scenarios from fixable to fatal. Please let it be fixable. “Where is she?”
Cochran gestured northward. “At the bottom of a shallow wash, that way, about forty-five, fifty minutes from here. We saw her when we were hiking up to this cave mouth that’s shaped like a heart.”
“That’s right by Candle Rock!” Bert burst out. The distinctive formation was part of his patrol area, not Tanya’s.
Matt bit off a curse. Candle Rock was difficult to reach, with too many river crossings for vehicles to get all the way in. And what the hell was Tanya doing over by Candle Rock? Later, he told himself. He’d worry about the whys later. “She’s unconscious?”
Cochran nodded. “Looks like she slipped and fell. She had a knot on her head. There was a little blood, and she was cool to the touch, but her breathing and pulse both seemed steady. Trace stayed to try and warm her up.”
“Good,” Matt said gruffly. “Okay, then.” He was starting to think the Cochrans weren’t as much of a lost cause as he had initially pegged them for. And for Tanya’s sake, he hoped to hell that was the case.
He turned to Jim. “Get an emergency medical chopper en route. Bert and I are going to drive in as far as we can and hike the rest of the way. We should get there about the same time as the chopper. I want you back here coordinating things.”
Jim’s face clouded. “But—”
“I could stay—” Bert began.
“Not open for discussion,” Matt broke in. He gestured to Bert. “Get one of the first-aid duffels and our climbing gear.” To Jim, he said in a low voice, “Let us take this one. You can see her later.” When the kid—okay, he was twenty-five, but as far as Matt was concerned, still very much a kid—started to protest, Matt fixed him with a look. “That’s an order.”
Jim hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. They both knew that although Matt didn’t pull rank often, he meant it when he did.
And in this case, he meant it in spades. He knew all too well that there was no room for emotion during a crisis … and when things went bad out in the backcountry, they could go very, very bad.
Tanya was an expert climber, though. What the hell had happened? And why was she out of her territory? Those questions clouded his concern for the young ranger as he drove his Jeep out toward Candle Rock, with Bert and Cochran following in a second vehicle.
Despite the rangers’ best efforts to educate the hikers who had the chops to handle the backcountry and discourage the ones who didn’t, the treacherous terrain, wildfires, poisonous snakes, and drought-starved predators had combined to take their toll. In his almost six years as head of Station Fourteen, he had led eight search parties and arranged transport of three bodies. His sector—which included the park’s most remote territory—averaged an airlift a month, and two or three times that many hikers had to be driven straight to the E.R. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.
He hoped to hell this would be one of the easy ones, requiring little more than a couple of ibuprofen and a day or two off. If Tanya had been unconscious for an extended period, though, that didn’t seem likely.
At the thought, he hit the gas and sent the Jeep lunging forward. Then, when the wheels shuddered, he made himself ease up and breathe. Panic didn’t solve anything.
They made it most of the way to Candle Rock in the vehicles after all—the drought that had contributed to the wildfires currently devastating Sectors Five and Six was a backhanded blessing now, drying up the two rivers that usually blocked the route.
When their luck ran out at the base of a steep hill, they parked, shouldered their gear, and hiked in the rest of the way, jogging along a narrow game trail that crested a rocky, tree-lined ridge near the cave.
Matt brought up the rear, carrying his shotgun. If Tanya was bleeding, there would be scavengers in the area, maybe even one or more of the bigger predators.
“Up here!” Cochran ran forward, cresting the ridge as he called, “Trace? We’re back!”
“Hurry!” a woman’s voice responded immediately. “She’s in shock, and I don’t like how low her heart rate is getting.”
Matt cursed and lunged up the last stretch and down the other side, partly jumping from one rock to another, partly skidding along the loose, crumbling gravel. “Get the ropes anchored,” he said to Bert, waving the older man back as he reached the edge of the deep wash.
“Will do. You should wait until—”
“No time.” Matt yanked the straps of his knapsack tighter, checked his shotgun, and jumped over the edge of the wash right behind Cochran.
He dropped nearly a dozen feet and his boots hit the ground hard, but he barely noticed the impact; his focus was locked on where Cochran had one arm around his wife. Their heads were tipped together, their bodies leaning into each other.
But even as that image burned itself inexplicably into Matt’s brain, he looked past them where Tanya lay sprawled in the gravel. She was covered with two brightly colored jackets, and other pieces of the Cochrans’ clothing were tucked around her. Her eyes were closed and a slender blood trail tracked across her cheek. Her supposedly shockproof radio lay smashed nearby, in a scuffed spot below the crumbled ledge.
Something jarred faintly wrong, but that was quickly blotted out by a twist of guilt. She looked so damn young lying there … and he had sent her out alone. Which was protocol, but still.
“Hey, Tanya,” he said as he crouched down beside her. “It’s Matt.” Had she ever called him by his first name? He couldn’t remember. “Bert’s here, too. We’re going to get you out of here.”
Her pupils were unequal, her vitals too damn low across the board. Yeah, she was shocky all right. Concussed, too, and maybe suffering from internal injuries. It wasn’t that much of a fall, but she must have landed exactly wrong.
Grabbing the radio off his belt, he toggled it to send. “Jim?”
There was a hiss and a squawk. “Did you find her?”
“Got her. How are we doing on that chopper?”
“Should be there any minute. How is she?”
“Banged up.” The faint noise of rotor-thwack saved him from having to elaborate. “Chopper’s here. Patch me through will you?”
As he was talking options with the pilot, a trio of climbing ropes sailed over the edge and slithered down, followed moments later by Bert. Raising his voice over the increasing noise of the helicopter, the grizzled ranger called, “They going to stay in the air and drop a basket?”
Matt shook his head. “The pilot thinks she can land on that flat section beyond the wash. We’ll use the ropes to bring Tanya up and out.” It felt good to have a plan, better to know she would soon be getting the medical help she needed. Turning back to the injured ranger, he gentled his voice and said, “The chopper’s almost here. They’ll get you down to the city, and—” He broke off when her eyelids fluttered. “Tanya? Can you hear me?”
She shifted uncomfortably and frowned, then lashed out with a fisted hand as though trying to physically fight off unconsciousness. Cochran and his wife made soothing noises but stayed back, yielding to Matt. He caught her flailing fist. “Easy, killer. You fell off the ledge and banged yourself up a bit, but the med techs are on their way.”
Her lips moved. “Didn’t … fall.”
He blew out a relieved breath that she was making sense. “You hit your head. It’ll come back.” Maybe. Maybe not. At least she was talking.
But she shook her head, wincing at the pain brought by the move.